


Faith is a Fine Invention

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Blind Character, M/M, blind!Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4058464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone sees the world in black and white until they touch their soulmate. The last thing Castiel expects is for his world to explode in colour when he accidentally touches some stranger. The only problem is that the stranger, Sam, has been blind since he was little and doesn’t believe it when Castiel says they’re soulmates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The amazing and beautiful glitter-lisp @ tumblr gave me permission to write her Sastiel AU, so here it is. I don't have a posting schedule (or anything more than a general idea where this is going), so updates will be sporadic and possibly far between. Sorry about that.
> 
> “Faith” is a fine invention  
> When Gentlemen can see –  
> But Microscopes are prudent  
> In an Emergency  
> – Emily Dickinson

Growing up, everyone heard stories about people finding their soulmate. They were everywhere -- books, television, music, even clickbait (“One Easy Trick To Find Your Soulmate!”). It popped up in almost every class -- the philosophy of love and destiny, the science behind it all (still very limited, unfortunately), analysis of romantic literature. It was a big part of a person’s life that no one quite understood, finding one’s soulmate, so it was no wonder that it was imbued in just about every part of life. The only problem was that, in any given year, only slightly more people found their soulmates than were attacked by sharks. There were just too many people in the world.

Then there were people who claimed to have found their soulmate for various reasons. Some churches wouldn’t marry non-soulmates, for example. It could be for tax reasons, or manipulation. There were some who claimed to have platonic or multiple soulmates, which was largely accepted as possible, and those who claimed to be soulmates with animals or fictional characters, which was largely accepted as bullshit.

Castiel was fairly cynical when it came to talk of soulmates. Sure, he’d been guilty of enjoying a romance novel or television subplot, but he never felt the same drive to find his soulmate that others seemed to. The world was black and white for him, it always had been, and it likely always would be, statistically speaking. And that was fine by him. Maybe he’d find someone to settle down with, or maybe not. In the meantime, he was more than happy with the company of a few friends. He’d much rather focus on making himself happy instead of worrying about whether or not he’d find The One in this life or whatever. People skills weren’t his strong suit anyway.

Castiel knew two people who could see in colour, and even they both said not to worry about it; it was overrated. Not a letdown, necessarily, but not at all the life-changing encounter they had been expecting.

So Castiel knew better, and he wanted better. With the scandals, the way media played it up so much when the reality was much more mellow, the fact that it was such a rarity he would find his soulmate anyway . . . Most people understood, at least.

He knew better, and yet, he had let his hopes get high without realising it. He never would have felt the disappointment of being let down until his death bed, perhaps. As it was, he felt it instead in a dreary October.

To be fair, all Octobers were notoriously dreary in this college town, as was the rest of the year. In the summer, the rains were hot, the air so muggy Castiel felt he might grow gills someday. In the fall, clouds hung ominously in the sky, and if they weren’t already pouring, you could watch them lower. Too warm for a jacket, but the wind makes it too cold to go without one, so Castiel was shivering and sweating by the time he made it to the general store down the road. He was looking for boxed dinners and sleeping pills, and he was thinking about whether he can still swing an A in philosophy of science. Altogether, it’s normal and not very memorable when he accidentally bumps into a stranger in the bread aisle.

Except for the way his world exploded in colour, and his apology died on his lips.

His first thought was that this was not as underwhelming as he had been led to believe. On the contrary, Castiel had to close his eyes against the onslaught of colour. His heart was pounding, breath coming fast, as if he just sprinted a mile.

He squinted his eyes open carefully and spun around in search of whoever he ran into. Surely they noticed too. Surely they were looking for him. He’d heard stories of nonmutual soulmates, and he was never so terrified of the idea as he was right in that moment.

When he turned, his hand smacked against something, knocking it to the ground. He apologised instinctively, distractedly, and bent to pick it up at the same time someone beside him did.

The pieces came to him slowly:  He was picking up a white cane from the floor, that he had knocked out of someone’s hand, and somehow he knew, beyond the faintest shadow of a doubt, that this was his soulmate. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but he had never known anything so surely in his life. It was like the fact was (he laughed at himself for thinking it) written on his soul.

“You,” he said before he could stop himself.

Castiel’s soulmate was a young man, Castiel’s age, maybe a little younger. His bangs almost fell into his pale eyes, and he smiled a little awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Me. Do I know you?”

He wasn’t looking at Castiel, and it occurred to him like a punch directly to his lungs that it was because his soulmate couldn’t  _ look _ .

“N-no, you don’t,” Castiel stuttered. He’d never been very eloquent, but he’d never been this bad. What could he even say?

When the young man had his cane back in hand, Castiel stood. “Um. My name’s Castiel.”

“That’s an interesting name. Sounds angelic.”

“It is.”

“I’m Sam. Biblical, not angelic.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam.”  _ Sam _ . It seemed fitting, but Castiel was probably biased. Sam could have introduced himself as anything, and Castiel would still have thought it was the most lovely name.

“Yeah, you too. Actually -- “

“Sam, I -- “ Castiel cut himself short. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to speak over you.”

“No, it’s fine. Go ahead.”

Castiel took a deep breath. He had no idea how he was going to say this, but he needed to try. “Sam, I -- I know this is going to sound crazy, okay? But I think -- I  _ know _ \-- we’re soulmates.”

Something hardened in Sam’s expression, then, and Castiel hated it. He didn’t want to see Sam upset. Odd how he already felt so strongly about the person he had just met.

“We don’t even know each other,” Sam scoffed.

“No, we don’t,” Castiel agreed, confused. “But I bumped into you earlier and -- “

“No, no, we  _ don’t even know each other _ ! So why would you say that?”

“Sam -- “

“No. Whatever. What aisle am I in?”

Castiel gaped, mouth opening and closing over words he couldn’t make himself say. Finally, he choked out, “Bread,” and that was the most underwhelming thing of the whole soulmate experience.

“I need to be with paper towels and stuff.”

“Two aisles left.”

“Thanks, Castiel. Do us both a favour and please never talk to me again.”

“But -- “

“No. No buts. Just -- stay away from me.”

If Castiel were a more courageous person, he would have said something else, would have stopped Sam from leaving.  _ Can’t you feel it?  _ he wanted to scream. Fuck the colours, this felt like a string wrapped around his heart, connected directly to Sam’s, pulling tighter, more painfully, the farther Sam walked away.

But he wasn’t more courageous, and he wouldn’t harass Sam no matter how much it hurt to watch him leave.

And it did hurt. Castiel couldn’t breathe with it. He narrowly avoided collapsing when his knees buckled, but even in his distress, he knew he couldn’t cause a scene. So he dug a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and left, forgetting the boxed dinners and sleeping pills and thinking about nothing but Sam.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive was quiet. It usually was, but today, the silence was loaded. Dean could immediately tell that something was wrong, and Sam could tell that Dean wanted to ask about it, but neither of them said a word.

Sam counted the number of stops the car made and estimated that they were halfway just about home when Dean finally spoke.

“So what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Sammy.”

Sam sighed.  _ Please take your cane to school, Sammy. C’mon, kiddo, let me go with you.  _ It was the same near-pleading tone of voice that Dean used when he was concerned, and Sam hated it. He hated it because he hated Dean thinking he needed taking care of, but he also hated it because he caved every time.

“I just met some guy in the store. Bumped into him, dropped my cane. It’s fine.”

“Is that all?”

Stupid, perceptive Dean. “He said we’re soulmates.”

“Oh, Sammy.”

“Don’t,” he bit. “Don’t  _ oh Sammy _ me. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Sammy. We left the state for a reason.”

Sam waited. The car was stopped. Were they home or at a long stoplight?

A car honked behind them, then they were moving again. Stoplight. He couldn’t escape.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked. They left kind of quickly, and Sam hadn’t asked. He probably would have to do without some things -- like vegetables -- for the week, unless Dean had been feeling particularly kind.

Dean took a deep breath. “Burgers,” he answered, but it sounded like resignation.

Sam almost felt bad for snapping, for forcing a change in subject. Almost. The truth was that Dean had it hard, providing for both of them, but he didn’t have to deal with this shit. He helped Sam through it, supported him, made threats to the people that hurt him that were only half empty. But he didn’t have to deal with it the way Sam did.

He was right:  They left the state for a reason, but Sam wasn’t willing to do it again.

“It’s a big campus,” he muttered when the car was in park in front of their apartment. “I probably won’t see him again.”

Dean pat Sam’s shoulder, squeezed for just a second, and Sam knew it was a kind of subtle praise.  _ Attaboy _ . If Dean had outright said it, Sam probably would have bristled, but the physical reassurance was more reassuring than anything else.

Sam longed for touch. He wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to show physical affection, someone who wasn’t his brother, maybe even someone who could take the burden off Dean. He wanted a soulmate, or at least a significant other, but when people already lied about seeing in colour, he was an easy target for that kind of manipulation. It was too risky to put himself out there. Sam knew that.

Yet for some reason his heart hurt for it.


End file.
